


Melted Skulls on Chrome

by Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mike hawk is there too, Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones-centric, and Ryan being an idiot, and pining, lots of pining, ryan haywood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:16:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes/pseuds/Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes
Summary: The Vagabond was cold, calm, collected, or completely unhinged but still maintaining that same air of being collected and cool.Ryan was not the Vagabond. Well, he was, but he wasn’t always collected and cool. He wasn’t always level-headed and logical. Especially not with his crew. With victims, he had the mask or the face paint to hide behind. With his crew, he didn’t. It was just Ryan Haywood. Not the Vagabond, not the Mad King, not whatever stupid title he used to go under.





	1. Chapter 1

The Vagabond was cold, calm, collected, or completely unhinged but still maintaining that same air of being collected and cool. 

 

Ryan was not the Vagabond. Well, he was, but he wasn’t always collected and cool. He wasn’t always level-headed and logical. Especially not with his crew. With victims, he had the mask or the face paint to hide behind. With his crew, he didn’t. It was just Ryan Haywood. Not the Vagabond, not the Mad King, not whatever stupid title he used to go under.

 

So, it made having a crush on one of his crew-mates that much harder.

 

Crush sounded ridiculous to Ryan, almost. It sounded like something a teen would use. But, it was the most accurate. 

 

Mainly because Ryan felt somewhat crushed whenever he saw Michael and Gavin fucking around together. Whenever they would make those jokes, laugh, when Gavin would talk about how  _ pretty  _ Michael was when he was drunk and how Michael would return the compliments in his own way when he was drunk as well. 

 

Geoff and Jack didn’t help either, joking along with them. Jeremy had started joining in, too, now that he had gotten comfortable among the crew to not expect a bullet in his head. 

 

But Ryan had largely dealt with it fine. For years, he had dealt with it perfectly fine. He hadn’t really fallen in love with anyone for the first few years in the crew. He hadn’t really fallen in love with Ray. The one time they kissed when the sniper was drunk had never meant anything and they both had admitted such.

 

But then, one day, he had realised how far he’d fallen.

 

The way he looked after a successful heist, a brilliant explosion that lit up the sky over the street and showered cars and people with flaming debris, the way his face flushed with adrenaline highs or celebratory alcohol, the way he just lived like every moment was meant for chaos. 

 

The way he looked far more peaceful, unnaturally calm, when he had drunkenly passed out on Geoff’s living room couch after their first successful heist with Jeremy (since Ray left), it was then that Ryan had recognized that he had fallen in love with Michael.

 

He could handle it for a while. He had assumed nothing had changed. But now that he had recognized it, the more his stomach twisted with how Michael and Gavin would talk about each other. Ryan would remind himself they were just jokes, that he was taking their words too seriously, that he was overreacting. 

 

It didn’t make it better. It didn’t make the way that Gavin would throw himself over Michael when he was drunk feel any better. It didn’t make the way that Michael would casually say how much he loved Gavin when the brit had a shocking moment of brilliance that solved a problem, or how Michael would lovingly call him a dumbass when he said something that inherently made no sense to anyone but Gavin or did something stupid but harmless. 

 

Ryan managed to deal with it for a while. It wasn’t too hard as long as he kept reminding himself they were just joking. At some point, he was sure he had managed to put the weird feeling that he got in his chest when he saw Michael laugh or when he would drape an arm over Ryan’s shoulders as far down into his stomach as it could go.

 

But then it all came back up.

 

It was after another successful heist. They’d managed to rob an armored truck (Jeremy didn’t understand why the others made that weird look when he suggested the plan) and were celebrating at a random club that Jeremy had said he’d never been too.

 

Ryan and Geoff made sure their crew didn’t run off and get lost in the swarm of bodies on the dancefloor or get into fights with people twice their size. (“Jeremy, no, you cannot fight the biker that is three times your size- I do not care how ripped you are, Jeremy NO!”)

 

Jack was the easiest to handle, mostly because she had a high tolerance but also because she was more interested in hugging Geoff and telling him how fucking happy she was that their plan worked and how much she loved Geoff then actually drinking. 

 

Ryan watched, amused, as Geoff sat in the booth with Jack’s arms wrapped around him and the drunk ginger loudly talking about how amazing Geoff was. Ryan had no issue taking her beer away to keep her from spilling all of it on the worn seats and Geoff.

 

Geoff gave him a thankful smile before looking around and, with a slightly confused expression, asked “Where’s Gav and Michael?”

 

“Shit. I’ll go find them.” Ryan said, setting down his can of diet coke and walking away to find out where the two had gone off to. He hoped that Gavin and Michael hadn’t gotten onto the dance floor, which was a mess of silhouetted bodies outlined with strobe-lights and Ryan really didn’t want to go near it. 

 

He made his way towards the corner of the club, near where there was a row of cushioned seats against the wall, and froze at what he saw.  

 

Michael and Gavin were sitting there, only a few other people sitting near them and watching with smirks or drunken laughter. 

 

They were kissing.

 

Michael’s arm was draped over Gavin’s shoulders, holding onto a half-empty glass of alcohol with his spare hand. Gavin’s head was tilted and he was slumped over to the point he was nearly laying on Michael. 

 

Suddenly, the music was too loud, the smell too intense. Ryan felt dizzy. He spun on his heel and started walking away, passing by Geoff and quickly saying “I need some air,” when he opened his mouth to ask where Ryan was going as he snatched up his jacket from the booth.

 

Ryan forced his way past several random patrons who swore at him out of annoyance. At least, Ryan assumed they were swearing. The music and the throbbing in his skull made it impossible for him to know. 

 

The air outside was cold and the streets were mostly silent. Ryan sighed, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He felt a couple stray flakes of face paint under his fingers but he didn’t really care. Everyone had been either too drunk to notice or hadn’t cared.

 

Ryan could feel the vibrations of the music coming from the club outside but it was muffled enough to not make his head pulse along with the beat. 

 

He tried his best to try and justify it. Mentally, he tried to convince himself he hadn’t seen anything. But he had. Michael and Gavin had kissed.

 

Perhaps they hadn’t always been joking. Now that Ryan had seen it, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen this coming.

 

It took him a moment to realize he was shivering. He pulled on his jacket. It wasn’t his Vagabond jacket, obviously, but it would have been nice if it was. 

 

It was pretty late, Ryan noticed, as he looked up at the sky. Maybe he should ask Geoff if they should head back to the penthouse. 

 

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment before turning around and heading back into the club. 

 

The ride back to the penthouse wasn’t  too awkward for Ryan. Geoff volunteered to drive and Ryan didn’t want to cause a problem so he let him, sitting in the passenger seat.

 

Michael and Gavin drunkenly babbled in the backseat and Jack was hugging one of them in one of the few times that Ryan had looked back to them. At some point, the babbling stopped and Ryan glanced back to see that they had fallen asleep. Gavin’s head rested on Michael’s shoulder. Jeremy had passed out next to Jack, slumped against the door. 

 

Ryan stared blankly at the road for the entire trip back. 

 

He helped Geoff drag the half-conscious crew up to the penthouse. Jeremy had asked Ryan if he’d give him a piggy-back ride up the elevator and Gavin had promptly asked the same thing with a much thicker accent than usual. Ryan told them both he would give them a piggy-back ride when they were sober, even though he had no intent of fulfilling that promise. 

 

Geoff took Jeremy and Jack and left Ryan carrying Michael and Gavin to their rooms. Gavin decided he’d rather sleep on the couch (and by that, he dropped onto the couch as they passed by it and was out in seconds) so that left Ryan to bring Michael to his room. 

 

Michael slumped against him, one arm draped over Ryan’s shoulder (with slight difficulty considering the height difference) and the alcohol on his breath almost sickeningly prominent as he mumbled something that Ryan didn’t understand.

 

It sounded a bit like he was talking about the explosions earlier that day and how epic the results were, but it was so much gibberish that Ryan didn’t understand. All he understood was that Michael was extremely close and extremely drunk. 

 

Ryan didn’t listen to Michael as he dropped him on the bed. Michael weakly reached out and said “See ya, t’morrow Ryan.”

 

Ryan shut the door behind him and walked towards the door. 

 

“Where are you going?” Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to see Geoff standing in the middle of the living room. 

 

“Uh, nowhere. I just- I need to finish up something. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

 

Geoff said nothing as Ryan slipped out of the penthouse and headed down to the garage where he kept his car. 

 

He played the news station on the radio as he drove to a nearby safehouse - his old apartment - and listened to the familiar voice talking about the armored truck robbery that had occurred. Ryan could remember how happy Jeremy had gotten when they had gotten away from the police with what was inside the armored truck, but the victory was somewhat soured now by Michael and Gavin kissing. 

 

Hopefully, Ryan would be able to put it behind himself by tomorrow and act like nothing had happened. 

 

He could do that, Ryan concluded as he walked into his old apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

 

He could not do that, Ryan realized as he entered Geoff’s penthouse late the next morning.

Jack was sitting on one of the bar stools, sipping a mug of coffee with a look that said ‘If any of you raises your voices i’m gonna fucking murder you all’ and the others didn’t look much better off, either. 

Gavin was still on the couch, moaning about how much his head was hurting, and Jeremy was slumped over on the counter. He was sitting next to Jack on one of the stools. Michael wasn’t present. Ryan wasn’t sure whether that made it easier or harder, so he tried to think of something else.

 

“Hey, Geoff.” Ryan greeted as Geoff shut the door behind him and walked back over to the kitchen. He had already changed into fresh clothes, unlike Gavin and Jeremy. 

 

“Hey, Ryan.” Geoff returned, continuing to cook something. Ryan smiled a little at that. “Did you finish up that thing?”

 

Ryan was briefly confused before remembering his vague excuse. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” If that thing was to clean up his old apartment while focusing entirely on adding sarcastic commentary to newscasts to keep his thoughts off the previous night, then he absolutely did. 

 

“Good. Where’d you go, exactly?”

 

“Oh, uhm…” Ryan quickly tried to recall the most recent list of their safehouses and which locations were the furthest away without being on the other side of the city. He didn’t know all of their safehouses, obviously. None of the crew knew  _ all  _ of their safehouses. Geoff said he knew about two other safehouses that no one else in the crew was aware of.

 

It was a precaution in case someone got captured by extremely unfriendly persons. That included the Los Santos Police, who could be as ruthless as the criminals themselves. 

 

“Our safehouse in Vespucci. Don’t worry about it.” Geoff’s expression seems a little suspicious, but he says nothing and continues making whatever it is he’s making.

 

“If you made a mess, Ryan, I am going to strangle you.” Jack said, tired.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Jack, there isn’t any mess.” Ryan reassures as he sits next to Jeremy.

 

“How’s my battle buddy?” He asks playfully and Jeremy groans in response. 

 

“I feel like I was hit with a truck.”

 

“I mean, you did almost get hit by an armored truck last night.” Ryan could distinctly recall the bright purple and orange vehicle swerving, Jeremy loudly screaming over the comms (earning just as much shouting from Michael), and the gut-wrenching terror of the armored truck wildly swerving onto the edges of the road. 

 

“Ha-ha.” Jeremy grumbles, threading his fingers between his bright orange and purple hair. Ryan had heard him talk about getting it shaved. Some part of Ryan, the part that liked familiarity, did not agree with such an idea. 

 

“Hey, Ryan, since you’re the only other sober person here and I’m making food, can you grab some painkillers and water for Gavin?” 

 

“Yeah.” Ryan answers, pushing the feeling that he isn’t sure of (and doesn’t belong there) away as he fills a glass with cold water and grabs some over-the-counter painkillers and bringing them over to Gavin. The brit begrudgingly sits up (moaning about how his head is spinning) and accepts the water and pills with no complaints towards it. 

 

“Is Michael still asleep?” Ryan finds the words are out of his mouth before he’s even realized it.

 

“He’s showerin.’” Gavin says with half-shut eyes. Ryan forces down the unwelcome feeling again. Gavin looks like he’s on the verge of passing out again.

 

“Maybe you should too. A cold shower might make you look less like shit.” Geoff comments, earning a glare from Gavin. 

 

“He kinda has a point,” Ryan says.

 

“Piss off, Ryan.” Gavin grumbles, although no malice was in his tone. He probably wasn’t even thinking about having kissed Michael. 

 

Ryan wish he could do the same. 

 

“Hey, look who’s here.” Geoff commented and Ryan turned his head towards the hallway to see Michael, sans the leather jacket and still dripping wet. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, a towel draped over his shoulders to keep the water dripping out of his curls from getting on Geoff’s floor. 

 

Ryan noticed the fresh bruises. There was one on Michael’s shoulder from when he’d been slammed into the side of the car after unbuckling to shoot at some of the police and hadn’t noticed Jack making a sharp turn until he was slammed into the side of the car. There were several others, but Ryan quickly forced his gaze away before Michael noticed. 

 

“I smelled food,” Michael said. “Hi, Gav.” Gavin smiled at Michael and murmured something that sounded like a greeting. Michael walked over to the counter with Jack and Jeremy. 

 

Ryan was glad everyone was too hungover (or occupied, in Geoff’s case) to notice Ryan staring at the well-defined shape of Michael’s back and the scars that he’d accumulated over years of a life of crime


	3. Chapter 3

 

Ryan ends up staying in his room after Geoff serves food. He doesn’t want to deal with his hung-over friends and so he locks himself in the dark ‘to brood like Batman’ as Gavin had referred to it.

 

He told the crew that he was going to clean his mask (it needed it, honestly) and they didn’t bat an eye at that. Well, Geoff gave him an odd look, but said nothing about it.

 

Today was a more relaxed day. The day after a heist (the successful ones, anyway) were relaxed. Usually that had something to do with the crew having fresh injuries or being hungover like in this instance. 

 

Ryan wished they had work. He wished that Geoff had a solo job for him to do, something to take his mind off Michael. It was stupid, to him, how much he was thinking about something he should've seen coming and how upset he had gotten about it. 

 

“This whole thing is stupid,” Ryan growls at the skull mask that was facing up towards him. It was almost like saying it to his own face, but he wasn’t.

 

That didn’t make it go away. If anything, it made Ryan feel even worse. 

 

He huffed in frustration, gaze darting to the mug on his desk that he kept full of his extra knives. Grabbing one, he spun around in his chair and launched it across his room. It lodged itself in the headboard of his bed.

 

Taking out his frustration on inanimate objects was as the best option he had at the moment (there wasn’t anyone Geoff had told him to ‘take care of’), so he picked up another knife and threw it as well. It lodged into the wall just above the last one. He snatched up another knife.

 

He repeated the process until he had run out of knives, slumping back in his chair to stare at the knives that were either lodged into his headboard, into the wall, or stabbed into his pillow.

 

Ryan took a deep breath, feeling much better now that he had taken out his frustration on something, and stood up. He could face his crew, now. Or, at the very least, ask Geoff for some work to do. 

 

Back in the main room, no-one had really moved. Jack had left the room (likely to escape the sound of the dishes being moved around in the sink or pass out) and Michael had clearly gone back to his room because now he was wearing an old gray shirt with  **RIOT** on the front in faded letters. 

 

Ryan sits in the stool that he now notices Jeremy has abandoned in favor of the loveseat, watching Michael turn on the tv. Gavin groaned something about the noise and Michael told him to go to his own room if he was going to complain. Gavin weakly threw a pillow at him. Ryan noticed the volume on the tv lower considerably. 

 

Ryan nearly jumped off the stool when Geoff set down a can of Diet Coke in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed that Geoff had finished dealing with the dishes.

 

“Thanks.” He hums, popping the can open. Geoff leans on the counter, propped up on his elbows. Ryan took one sip from the can before noting that Geoff seemed to be waiting for something. 

 

A conversation, probably. Maybe an explanation of Ryan leaving to spend the night somewhere else after a successful heist instead of sleeping in his comfortable bed in the penthouse.

 

Ryan didn’t give him it. He was arguably the most dangerous man in Los Santos. If he wanted to ignore his emotional issues and his boss’ desire to have an explanation, he could. 

 

He tried to ignore how that also came back to bite him in the ass. He was arguably the most dangerous man in Los Santos and he even couldn’t properly handle a crush he shouldn’t even have.

 

Geoff gave up trying to pry information out of Ryan by just staring at him and went back to putting things away in the kitchen. Ryan almost didn’t realize that he was wearing the apron that Jeremy, Gavin, and Michael had given him about three months ago.

 

**Kiss the Gent!**

 

Ryan hid his faint smile behind his can of Diet Coke.


	4. Chapter 4

One thing Ryan had forgotten until the previous night about his old apartment was how uncomfortable his bed was. It wasn’t the worse bed he’d ever owned, but it wasn’t nearly as good as his bed in Geoff’s penthouse. 

His bed was what he was going to blame his exhaustion on, not the way he couldn’t stop thinking of Michael or the kiss. Nope, that wasn’t his problem at all.

Ryan had dismissed himself to take a nap, doing his best to avoid looking at how Gavin had laid himself on top of Michael like a cat. It was a usual habit, something he had done to every member of the crew (Jeremy had panicked the first time Gavin did it to him), but it was somehow different this time. 

Everything was different this time.

Fortunately, Ryan managed to fall asleep quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan was woken up by a loud string of curses, followed by incoherent babbling interspersed with bird noises. Wait, no, not bird noises. Ryan sat up as Gavin swore at the top of his lungs with the most British-sounding words in existence.

 

There was the familiar sound of the Mario Kart victory song and Ryan chuckled lightly as he slid out of bed. He took a moment in front of the mirror to straighten himself out and look less like a mess. He slightly frowned at the dark dip under his eyes. He must have not properly cleaned all of his facepaint off the night before. 

 

He spent several minutes scrubbing the darkness off of his eyelids, nearly gouging out his own eyes multiple times and looking a little bit like he had cried with how red the skin around his eyes was. But, he didn’t look reminiscent of a raccoon, so he considered it a win.  

 

He ignored how the clock casually informed him via roman numerals that he had been asleep for the past four hours. 

 

Inside the living room, all of the crew (not counting Ryan) was sitting in the livingroom and screaming obscenities at the colorful display on the TV screen that clearly displayed the fact that Gavin had failed horribly and that Jack had beaten them all. 

 

“Hey, Ryan’s alive!” Jeremy joked from his spot on the couch, turning the crew’s attention (aside from Gavin, who was muttering angrily under his breath, to Ryan.

 

Ryan folded his arms, trying to look displeased at the comment but failing at the wide grin that Jeremy flashed back. 

 

“‘Ey, Ryan, wanna take my control? I’m getting bored with kicking their asses every round.” Jack held up her control, looking like she hadn’t been suffering from a terrible hangover a few hours previous. She was crammed onto the couch in between Michael and Jeremy. 

 

“I dunno. It’s fun to watch you do it.” 

 

“C’mon, Rye, you could work on your driving skills.” Geoff teased from where he was sprawled out in the only recliner in the penthouse. Gavin and Michael had teasingly nicknamed it Geoff’s old man chair.  

 

“My driving skills are fine.” Ryan’s bill from the mechanic would beg to differ. 

 

“You scared, Ryan?” Jeremy joined in on teasing. Ryan took a moment to remember a time when Jeremy was too scared to basically breathe in Ryan’s presence, let alone poke fun.

 

“Last I checked, you still wore neon-orange and neon-purple clothes, a cowboy hat, and you nicknamed your Kuruma the Armored Tim. You are perhaps the most un-scary thing in this entire city.” For a moment, Jeremy scowled, but it melted into a smile. 

 

“Un-scary?” Gavin repeated, face twisting into a smile. Ryan scowled at him, snatching up Jack’s offered remote and taking her place on the couch before he even knew what he was doing. 

 

“Fuck off, Gavin.” He snapped before Gavin could start laughing. 

 

“Oi!” His tone betrayed his amusement. 

 

Just for that, Ryan smacked away his remote when the new round started. The others laughed at Gavin’s shrieking and his flailing as he tried to grab his remote. No one noticed how Ryan’s hand bumped over Michael’s exposed knee or how he jerked his hand away like he’d been burned.   

 

They played Mario Kart for about two hours before they took a break. Ryan cringed at the way his joints popped when he stood up.

 

“Getting old, Ry?” Michael asked teasingly as Ryan popped his back. 

 

“Shut up.” He grumbles in response, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing a can of diet coke. 

 

They reconvene their game after a few minutes of getting blood back to their feet and it goes on for a while. Gavin managed to win a few rounds. At some point Jeremy hands his remote to Geoff and decides to cram himself between Gavin and Michael.

 

Ryan pretends to not feel the warmth of Michael pressing against his side. 

 

“Hey, jackass, i’m trying to play a fucking game!” Michael snaps at Jeremy when he decides to start leaning into Michael’s other side. Ryan’s muscles tense when Michael presses against him when he leans away from Jeremy.

 

Using one of his legs, Michael does his best to kick Jeremy into getting off the couch while also trying to not crash into a wall or go off the tracks in Mario Kart.

 

Ryan loses that round, accidentally driving his avatar off the track and into the ocean and failing to finish that lap before time runs out. 

He claims that Michael and Jeremy’s bickering distracted him. That’s most of the truth.

* * *

 

“YOU BASTARD!” Gavin howls when Michael and Ryan gang up on Gavin’s avatar and send him careening off the course and into the abyss right before they both finish the final lap.

Gavin looks ready to throw his control into the flat screen TV and Jack decides a movie is better than having to clean up glass and buy a new TV and so they all decide to go with that. 

It’s just Ryan’s luck that the crew selects a romantic tragedy movie. He makes the occasional comments about the questionable quality of it but otherwise lets the others do the snarky commentary.

When the love interests are sprawled out on glass shards in the middle of the street, bleeding out in each other’s arms in front of a totalled car, everyone is strangely quiet. They hadn’t known the movie would end like this, and it would probably have been better if they did.

No one liked to think about how they were all still humans at the end of the day. They definitely didn’t want to think about how realistic the prospect of bleeding out in each other’s arms was. It had been too real for Ray, and sometimes it was too real for Ryan.

They were the Fake AH Crew, a notorious band of criminals, some of the most wanted people in this part of the country, but they were family.

That made him feel even worse when a small bud of jealous formed in his stomach at how Michael pulled Jeremy and Gavin closer as the love interest’s breathing ceased onscreen.  

  
Ryan dismissed himself the moment the movie had ended, speed-walking to his room and doing his best to ignore Jack and Geoff’s concerned glances. The crew understood how much the idea of someone dying hurt. It had almost happened repeatedly over the years, the most recent example having been when Jeremy nearly smashed his car head-first into the armored truck, and it wouldn’t stop any time soon.    
  
Ryan didn’t like to think of what would happen to the crew if someone died. The crew had nearly fallen apart when Ray left for New York, never to return, and he wasn’t even dead.    
  
  
Ryan didn’t like to think of what would happen to the crew if someone died. The crew had started to come apart when Ray left for New York, never to return, and he wasn’t even dead.    
  
For a while, Ryan laid on his bed and stared into the empty eye-sockets of his skull mask as his mind started to wander until he fell into a light sleep.   
  
Ryan doesn’t remember what he dreamed that night, but he remembers blood, tears, sirens, Michael’s warm-brown eyes gone vacant, and Gavin’s gold-plated pistol reflecting the city lights of Los Santos. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he does his best to wash the phantom blood off of his hands until they hurt.   
  



	6. Chapter 6

Ryan asks Geoff for some work to do after breakfast the next morning.   
  
Geoff stares at him over his coffee mug for a few moments when Ryan asks. Ryan pretends that he doesn’t feel his insides squirming.    
  
“Ryan, is something wrong?”   
  
“No,” Ryan says slowly, not wanting his voice to crack or for him to come off as acting evasive. “I just want some work to do.”       
  
Geoff nods, looking into his coffee before taking another drink. “You can go buy groceries.”   
  
“Seriously?” Ryan was hoping for a more physical activity.    
  
“I don’t have anything else for you right now. Go take a jog or something if you want to do something else” Geoff shrugs and gets up from the table, walking away to likely drink his coffee elsewhere.   
  
Gavin shrieks from somewhere in the penthouse, followed by a heavy thump and Michael shouting a bunch of curses that nearly block out Gavin’s half-coherent begging for someone help rescue him.   
  
Ryan grabs his phone, his jacket, and heads out the door.    
  



	7. Chapter 7

It’s just Ryan’s luck that he gets stuck in traffic. On one hand, an excuse for staying out of the penthouse. On the other hand, he’s stuck in a street with people blaring their horns, swearing at each other, or blasting terrible music out their open windows.

 

Ryan rested his head on the wheel, turning on the news station purely to listen to something other than the shitty, vulgar rap playing out of the car in the lane next to him. 

 

The news anchor was talking about the armoured truck robbery again, this time in much more detail. Ryan rolled his eyes as they played an audio clip from a press conference. It was head of Los Santos Police Department, stating that they would work better to secure Los Santos and rid it of the menace that was the Fake AH Crew.

 

Same old bullshit. The police would just arrest a bunch of people on bogus grounds so that they could say that they were actual doing their jobs. Somehow, that seemed easier than doing their jobs properly. 

 

Ryan’s head snaps up so fast he almost loses grip on his steering wheel when one of the cars behind him blared their horn. Ryan frowned at the green street light and moved forward. 

 

He hated how the chorus of the car horns reminded him of how Michael had once had Jack help him rig the Crew vehicle (which had been blown up in the heist that Ryan was sure ultimately convinced Ray to leave) to play a chunk of  _ The Sugar Plum Fairy _ when someone honked. 

 

Ryan decides to take the less congested backstreets of Los Santos when he gets the chance, being sure to check the tiny weapon stash in his glove box beforehand.

 

The streets are quiet this late on a morning, so Ryan turns up the radio further to the point all he could think about was every auditory detail instead of how Michael would usually sit in the passenger seat and stare out the window with a gun tucked under his thigh on the occasions of when he drove through here with Ryan.

 

Ryan gets out of the backstreets once he’s sure he’s left the general vicinity of the more popular streets. He drops by Ammu-Nation when he passes it on the way to the store. 

 

Once again, he thinks about how Michael would usually love to take the drives to the store purely to check out the explosives and paint-jobs. 

 

Ryan avoids looking at both of those sections the entire time he’s inside the store, which is somewhat of a challenge with how small Ammu-Nation is and that all of it’s displays are in the same several feet of space. 

 

Ryan feels weirdly drained as he slips into his car. His brain is hardly processing anything as he grabs everything at the store that was on the list Geoff was kind enough to text him. He doesn’t feel like braving the backstreets again and travels on the less-congested main streets of Los Santos.

 

He arrives home late and tired and glad that Geoff left the door unlocked. The only lights remaining on are the kitchen and livingroom. Gavin is passed out on the couch, laptop open and sitting on his stomach. The screen is blank and none of the lights are on, leaving Ryan to assume it died a while ago.

 

Ryan walks over to the kitchen island, dumping the groceries and his purchases from Ammu-Nation on the expensive-looking surface. 

 

“You’re home late.” Ryan spins around, relaxing when he sees Michael standing a few feet away with his arms folded. His hair is ruffled weirdly, inspiring faint concern in Ryan that his entrance may have woken the man up. 

 

Ryan turns back to the stuff, starting to pull stuff out of the bags and sort them. He originally planned on letting Jack deal with it while he did his best to get a decent rest, but right now, avoiding looking at Michael was more important then the amount of caffeine he would down tomorrow morning. 

 

“Traffic was bad,” Ryan answers.

“Since when did traffic stop the Vagabond from getting his Diet Coke?” Michael asked jokingly, walking over and grabbing the handle to a case full of the beverage. He pauses, smile straightening when Michael’s eyes land on the stuff from Ammu-Nation.

 

“Geoff didn’t say you were going to Ammu-Nation. I could have gone with you.”

 

“I decided to drop by when I was passing it.” Ryan answers in the most indifferent voice he can manage as he stuffs the plastic bags into each other and throws them into the recycling bin that Geoff had insisted they use properly. 

 

“You could have at least sent someone a text. I need to buy more explosives since we used so many of them on the armored truck. And subsequent cop cars.” The corners of Michael’s lips turn up in a sort of smirk and for a second, Ryan nearly smiles with him. 

 

“I can buy you some tomorrow.” Ryan offers before his tired brain even fully catches up with his mouth. The idea of driving through the traffic tomorrow morning was just as appealing as being shot in the thigh. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” Ryan glances at Michael out of the corner of his vision. For some reason, Michael’s expression seemed betrayed, like Ryan had gone behind his back and done something. In a way, he had. Michael’s eyes were wandering around the livingroom.

 

Ryan picked up the bag of licorice he had gotten for Geoff, wanting to do something with his hands. 

 

“By the way, you left the door open.” Ryan looked up to see Michael turn on his heel and walk back to his room. Ryan cringed at the door slamming shut with a little more force than Michael usually used. He pushed that thought away, putting it up to Michael being less considerate of force when he was tired.  

He looked over to the door. It opened up to the hallway outside.

 

Ryan lowered his head and sighed before walking over and shutting it. He leaves the groceries and the stuff from Ammu-Nation that wasn’t for his own weapons on the island for Jack and Geoff to deal with tomorrow.

 

His dreams are full of soft touches, warmth, and Michael’s wild, drunken laughter. When Ryan wakes up in the middle of the night, he feels weirdly warm and sick. He takes a short shower (and by that, he doused himself in his shower for about a minute) before going back to bed and falling asleep again.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Over the next few days, Ryan does his best to act like normal. It gets harder when every single interaction between Michael and Gavin seems painfully amplified, seeming to outline how Gavin was way more compatible for Michael than Ryan was. 

 

Ryan’s dreams are still haunted by Michael, by what-ifs, and it starts getting harder to handle. He does his best to avoid Michael whenever possible, which is much harder to do when Ryan has no work and is mostly just hanging out in Geoff’s penthouse.

 

Usually, Ryan would appreciate the large chunk of downtime that he was given. Instead, he was just getting antsy. He needed something to do. He needed something to get his blood pumping and take his mind away from Michael.

 

So, he’s very attentive when Geoff walks into the living room one evening with Jack right behind him. He has his arms folded and he has that look on his face that he usually makes during heist planning, if he’s not completely running on coffee from spending hours beforehand making contingency plans. 

 

“Alright, guys, we got some work to do.”

 

“What kind of work?” Jeremy asks, sitting up straight. He’s sitting on the couch, next to Gavin and Michael. 

 

“The boring kind.” Jack interjects, smirking at Geoff’s glare before he continues speaking.

 

“You guys remember Sugar Pine, right?” 

* * *

Turns out, the job is conducting a deal. A deal with a small crew that self-named itself Sugar Pine 7. Ryan had met one of their members before, but he hadn’t really gotten to know any of them well. He’d never had a reason.

 

Jack was working as Geoff’s driver (as usual) and Jeremy was going long as the muscle. It really didn’t matter that Jeremy was 5’4, he could still kick ass with his bare hands. 

 

Gavin chose to do the monitoring from his laptop in the backseat of Geoff’s car. The windows are tinted, so the small crew won’t see the man hacking into security feeds while Geoff talks with them. 

 

That left Ryan with Michael, parked around the corner, as back-up. They decide to take a more discreet car, even though Michael wants to take his chrome adder instead of Ryan’s car which seems to blend into this part of city much easier.

 

Michael’s phone sits on the dashboard, displaying security footage that Gavin was feeding into it. At the moment, all they can see is an empty parking lot (sans two older-looking cars towards the far end). It was cornered on all sides except one by different buildings that Ryan could assume were warehouses considering what part of the city they were in.

 

Ryan has his face paint on and a bullet-resistant vest under his signature black and blue jacket. He has a gun pressed into the space between his calf and his seat. If he were to run his hand over his sides he can feel the faint outline of the knives tucked into the pockets inside his jacket. 

 

Michael had gone to Ammu-Nation with Gavin and picked up some extra explosives, a couple now tucked into his leather jacket. It’s slightly singed at the end of one of the sleeves from the armored truck heist, but it doesn’t seem to bug Michael. The jacket has a lot of faded burn-marks and it’s a little frayed at the seams, but that seems to add more character to it.

 

When Michael turns away from Ryan to make sure there aren’t any approaching cars, it’s easier to see the wear on the snarling wolf printed on the back of Michael’s jacket. The words are faded somewhat, but Ryan can still read them.

 

‘Confide Nemini’ curled around the underside of the wolf head on a red banner over Michael’s shoulder-blades. Ryan couldn’t recall what the words meant and he briefly pondered if Michael even knew what they meant, either. 

 

‘Lone Wolf’ was spelled out in faded red cursive on the small of his back.

 

Ryan quickly looks at anything else that isn’t Michael when he turns to look back at Ryan.

 

“Alright, let’s get started.” Jack hummed over the comms. 

 

“Gav, do you see ‘em?” Geoff asked as a car drove up at the corner of the footage being fed back to Michael’s phone. Ryan assumed it was Jack. 

 

“Uh… No, not quite yet.”

 

“They better show up,” Jeremy muttered, a slight undertone of concern. The last time they went out to one of these ‘deals’ and no one showed up as planned, there had been a major gunfight that nearly killed Jack and left driving up to Gavin. It was a very expensive repair to the car and had left their best hacker incapacitated for two months. It was a scare that left the Fakes inactive for a while, too worried to risk losing a member. 

 

“Wait- I see ‘em!” Michael pointed to the small space between two of the buildings that he could see on his phone. Several people slipped out, still difficult to see in the darkness.   
  


“I see them too,” Geoff stepped out of his car. He was wearing a suit, one worn at the edges by years of being used, and very faint stitch-lines from patched up bullet-holes. Ryan was sure that it was the only suit Geoff owned. He couldn’t see any of the details from the poor security footage, but he had seen the suit many times up close.

 

Geoff stood near the hood of the car, watching as the cluster of people approached. 

 

There was four of them. They all wore jackets to fend off the cold night air.

 

They all remained close together, stopping a few feet in front of Geoff who had started leaning on the truck in order to induce an air of casualness. Like this wasn’t a gang deal that the Los Santos Police wouldn’t be so eager to discover. One that wouldn’t make headlines if it had been intercepted. 

 

“Hey, Gav, what’re these guys wanted for exactly?” Michael asks over the comms, picking up his phone to get a better look at the small crew. A small message popped up on the screen.

 

**GavinoFree has sent an image.**

 

Michael pulled up his message app, scrolling through the block of messages so fast that Ryan (try as he might) couldn’t read them. He was sure one of the messages said ‘I love you, too’ but it had scrolled by so fast that Ryan couldn’t be sure. 

 

The images provided showed the crew members in much more detail.

 

“Well, let’s see…. They have warrants out for their arrest for homicide, arson, armed theft, breaking and entering, crime-scene tampering, and…. Unpaid parking tickets. Huh.” Gavin was probably tilting his head, finding the one final offense peculiar.

 

“Reminds me of a certain Ryan Haywood.” Michael said, smirking as he looked at Ryan out of the corner of his eye. Ryan tried his best to frown at him and ignore how the nearby street-light softened his features and made his brown eyes shimmer. It made him seem so soft, made Ryan want to reach out and feel Michael’s bottom lip under his thumb.

 

Ryan looked at the phone, not wanting to put too much pressure on his self-control. If he did something stupid right now, he wouldn’t be able to escape the situation. He glanced up at Michael as discreetly as he could, though. His smirk had vanished. 

 

One of the pictures had the guy with the band wrapped around his forehead puffing a large cloud of white out of his mouth. In the corner of the picture, Ryan could see a vape pen in his hand. Ryan was briefly reminded of Ray, before or after a heist, hitting the bong in Geoff’s livingroom. 

 

“Huh, he vapes.” Michael hummed, leaning in to see the image closer without moving his phone in complete disregard for Ryan’s personal space. Ryan felt Michael’s curls brush against his ear. He almost leaned into the touch before reminding himself of the situation again and jerking away. Michael gave him an odd look at the sudden movement before seeming to brush it off and lean back in his seat, pulling his phone closer to his face. He pulled his pistol out from where it had been pressed against his tailbone and set it down on his thigh. 

 

“Which one is considered the leader?” Ryan asked, hoping for a distraction.

 

“Well, it’s either James or Steven.” Ryan frowned at that, not exactly knowing which were which.

 

“The ones with glasses.” Ryan looked at Michael, wanting to look at the images again, but Michael only hummed a acknowledgement to Gavin. His eyes remained focused on the screen. Ryan decides to just stare out the windows as he waits for the expected fire-fight. 

 

There was a reason that Geoff was wearing some bullet-resistant armor under that fancy suit. 

 

Ryan can hear Geoff talking to the crew, his voice a little crackly over the comms, but it gives Ryan something else to focus on. It didn’t do much to keep Ryan from zoning out, thinking about how easy it would be to reach out and touch Michael right now, or how he really would like to not be able to see how Michael’s eyes reflected the lights around him.

 

“Ryan? Earth to Ryan? WAKE UP, DUMBASS!” Ryan jerked upright, having dozed off with his head resting on the window. He turned his head to see Michael was looking at him weirdly, his phone resting on his other thigh.

 

“What?” He asked, subconsciously running a hand through his hair to smooth it down in case it had gotten a little ruffled. Michael continued to stare at him, making a weird shape with his lips as if he was trying to figure out something.

 

Ryan quickly averted his gaze when he realized he was staring at Michael’s lips. Ryan awkwardly cleared his throat before asking Gavin over the comms, “How’s that deal going?”

 

“It’s going good. I shut off Geoff’s line a little bit ago. He wanted us to stop distracting ‘im.” Gavin honestly sounded a little sleepy. Ryan considered poking fun at Gavin by asking if it was past his bedtime.

 

“What happens if they pull their guns on him?” Ryan asked instead.

 

“The parking lot gets a fresh coat of paint,” Jeremy answered darkly, although very quiet. Ryan remembered that Jeremy outside of the car with Geoff, acting as his bodyguard. He didn’t want this small crew to hear him threatening them under his breath.   

 

“Let’s hope they don’t.”

 

“Yeah, let’s hope,” Michael muttered back, voice low and seemingly disconnected. 

 

They waited in the car for a while, expecting a firefight that never came. At some point, after Gavin had said that nothing really seemed to be happening (aside from one of the members starting to vape in the background), so Michael started playing a game on his phone until it beeped a low battery alert at him and he tucked it into the only pocket in his leather jacket that didn’t have something crime-related shoved into it. 

 

At some point, Ryan had pulled out one of his knives and started to idly twirl it around and between his fingers. He had started doing it years ago, before he was part of the Fakes, and it had never stopped inducing a sense of unease (or terror) into others. Especially when he was wearing the skull mask, leaning on a wall and twirling the knife with an air of indifference. 

 

It was Geoff’s voice that jerked Ryan out of his musing as he came back onto the line, an exhalation of relief followed by a, “I need a nap.”

 

“How’d the deal go? You didn’t get shot at so I’m assuming well?” Ryan asked, tucking the knife into one of his pockets. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll explain the details to you at home,” Geoff had always been a tad bit paranoid. Ryan could understand it, but sometimes it just seemed excessive. He wasn’t one to complain about that, usually, but it left him taking a huge detour and being stuck with Michael for way longer then he would want. Or shorter than he would want. He didn’t know.

 

“Alright. Let’s get going,” Jack announced, presumably pulling her car out of the parking lot. Ryan pulled the gun he had behind his thigh and threw it into the backseat before starting the car and pulling it out into the street. 

 

“Hey, Gav, do you think any of those Sugar Pine guys are dating?” Michael asked out of nowhere, startling Ryan. Michael was leaned back, feet crossed over the dashboard, and didn’t seem to care when the car slightly swerved. 

 

“Eh, probably not. I mean, that Cib guy was really touchy with the others so…  Maybe?” It was Jeremy talking, sounding a lot more relaxed now that the deal was over and no shots had been fired.

 

“Gavin’s pretty touchy,” Ryan blurted, pretending not to see the weird look Michael gave him at those words. 

 

“Yeah, but i’m not goin’ around snogging any of you!” Ryan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and he could feel the words bubbling in the back of his throat, the accusation he could make, the reminder, but he said none of it. He instead kept his mouth shut, not trusting himself to speak.

 

“Is there something I don’t know?” Ryan shrunk at Jack’s words, even though she wasn’t even talking to him. At least, he hoped she wasn’t.

 

“No,” Ryan said at the same time that Michael said ‘maybe.’ Ryan looked to him and the two stared at each other, trying to gauge each other's emotions, before Michael looked away.

 

“Asshole, eyes on the road!” Michael snapped, jerking Ryan’s attention back to the street ahead. He suddenly felt like his jacket was too constricting, but he made no move to remove it. 

“Everything alright?” 

 

“Everything is fine.” Michael muttered, leaning against the window, “Just fine.” 

 

The following silence stretched out for about a minute before Michael turned on the radio and started playing some random station. It wasn’t particularly good music, but it filled the silence and wasn’t enough to make Ryan groan, so he let it pass. 

 

Eventually, the conversation resurfaced, but Ryan purposefully excluded himself from it. When anything was directed towards him, he just gave a simple (usually monosyllabic) answer. Eventually, Michael stopped giving him odd looks when he answered the occasional stupid question. 

Somehow, that made Ryan feel even more uncomfortable.

 

Ryan and Michael were the first to reach the private garage where the crew kept their private vehicles. The others won’t be home for another twenty minutes, according to Jack. Gavin decides to cut their comms, which Ryan is silently thankful for.

 

Michael gets out of the car before Ryan even turns it off, his heavy footsteps echoing in the garage as he made his way to the elevator that would bring him to the penthouse. Ryan quickly follows after him and manages to get into the elevator before the doors shut.

 

Michael leans against the wall by the buttons, looking at the floor-counter above the door instead of Ryan. 

 

When they reached the penthouse, Michael pulled out a key and unlocked the door before heading inside. He made a beeline for his bedroom, leaving Ryan to shut the door.

 

He pulled out his earpiece, setting it down on the kitchen island as he grabbed himself a Diet Coke and stripped off his jacket before heading to his own room as well. His skull mask still sat on the desk. 

 

He splayed his jacket over the back of his desk chair and plopped down on the edge of his bed. There had been a time in his life where he had never imagined himself living in a penthouse among the most dangerous people in Los Santos, or ever consider them family, but there he was. 

 

If only his crush on Michael could work out as easily. 

 

Ryan got off the bed, setting his can down on his desk before he headed to the bathroom. He wasn’t sure how long he spent washing off the face-paint or how long he took a shower, but he didn’t really care. It must have been longer than twenty minutes because when he headed back to his room, he could hear the other half of the crew in the living room. 

 

He collapsed in his desk chair, the exhaustion starting to sink in as he pulled his jacket in front of him and began to pull the knives out of the pockets. He fumbled a little bit, his eyes starting to droop, but he managed to not cut himself. 

 

Looking at the bunch of knives on the desk, Ryan decided to leave sorting them to the next morning. He didn’t want to look at his clock to see what time it was, knowing it was probably pretty late, and flopped onto the bed. 

 

Nothing that he dreams of that night sticks with him when he wakes up. 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

 

One thing that Ryan didn’t seem to inherit from his Vagabond persona was the ability to be discreet. 

 

It wasn’t exactly noticeable at first. For a while, Geoff didn’t question why Ryan kept asking for the solo jobs. It was a usual thing for Ryan to pick the solo jobs, but he did start to get suspicious when Ryan kept asking and volunteering for them instead of the two-person jobs. 

 

Jack was the one who pulled Ryan aside and asked if something was bothering him, if he was okay. She was worried that maybe something had upset Ryan, that he wasn’t doing okay. Ryan had to swear to her that he was fine, holding her hand, staring her directly in the eyes, and saying he was okay. Even after that, she would still give him concerned looks whenever he left the penthouse. 

 

Geoff pulled him aside a few days later. Ryan had prepared a whole mental list of different ways to say he was fine when Geoff asked,”Do you wanna leave the crew?”

 

Ryan took a moment to pull his blown mind back together. “What?”

 

“You’ve just been acting kind of off, like you don’t want to be around the crew anymore. Do you want to leave? Because, I understand if you do.”

 

“Wha- No- Geoff, I don’t want to leave the Fakes. You guys are fucking family, I wouldn’t leave you.”

 

“Ray was family, too. Listen, Ryan, if you actually do want to leave the crew-”

 

“What happened to the ‘nobody leaves this crew except in a body bag?’” Ryan interrupted, injecting some humor into his voice.

 

“You idiots happened. Look, Ryan, if there is something bugging you, let me know.”

 

“Don’t worry, Geoff. The day the Vagabond leaves this crew is the day Los Santos burns to the ground.” Ryan decides that’s better than saying ‘the day the Vagabond leaves is the day the Vagabond dies’ because, with Ryan’s current luck, he’s probably going to get shot the next time he leaves the penthouse. 

 

Ryan continues with the solo jobs trend, but he makes a little bit more effort to seem alive. His black skull mask made that a little harder to do, but he managed. 

 

Up until he didn’t.

 

The solo jobs ran out, or Geoff sent out one of the other members who could actually handle that job properly, and Ryan was left with nothing to really do aside from throw knives around his room to the point he spent all his portion of the money they got from the armored truck heist on replacing things. 

 

Then, Geoff sent Ryan out on a job with Michael. A stakeout somewhere in Rockford Hills. Gavin offered to go when Geoff told them but Geoff had told him that he had another job.

 

Ryan had been not-so-discreetly avoiding Michael as much as possible. It didn’t help that they lived in the same building, or that their rooms were only separated by Gavin’s, or that Michael was still stuck in his dreams. His plan had been to avoid Michael until he stopped having feelings or, at least, until his brain fully accepted that Michael was emotionally unavailable. 

 

This stakeout put a wrench in that plan. 

 

Ryan walked over to Michael’s car- which had been predetermined by Geoff as their vehicle- with his sniper rifle and his full Vagabond get-up. He had his mask shoved into one of his pockets, just in case. 

 

Michael looked up when he heard Ryan’s footsteps. He tucked his phone into his pocket. He waited until Ryan had opened the passenger side door before slipping into the car himself.

 

“Alright, so, you know what we’re doing?” Ryan asked as he put his sniper rifle in the backseat. 

 

“Yeah, watch for Mike Hawk at the Mount Zonah hospital,” Michael hissed, pulling the car out of the garage and onto the street. 

 

“You know, I thought you and Gavin killed that guy years ago?”

 

“Fucking black magic, I swear. I stabbed that guy all over. He should not have lived.” Michael’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

 

“He shouldn’t have,” Ryan agreed, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like before that kiss, but not quite. Michael was tense and it felt like they were missing something.

 

There’s a silence for a few minutes and Michael turns on the radio, as he did during the return home from the deal with Sugar Pine 7.

 

It’s the news channel with an anchor talking about another Vinewood star scandal that would likely be promptly forgotten in a month only to be replaced with some controversial politician or next big crime. It was a normal thing in Los Santos’ news at this point. There were scandals, politics, or crime. In the rare cases where there wasn’t any of that in Los Santos, the news moved to the madness of the rest of San Andreas (or the world, in the really rare cases). 

 

“Remember that one time we went on a stakeout with Ray?” Michael said, out of nowhere. Ryan could remember it, though.

 

“Yeah, I remember it. The first and last time I ever went on a stakeout with both you and Ray.”

 

Michael chuckled, seeming to relax a little. “I never thought that people would send out so many mercenaries for the kid with a pink sniper rifle.”

 

Ryan smiled at the memory of Michael dragging a half-awake, hungover guy in a purple hoodie into their old headquarters (a somewhat decent apartment that Geoff had rented out for his brand new crew of criminals at the time). Geoff had not been pleased with Michael, but then Ray went ahead and proved himself to be a damn good shot. So they kept him. 

 

“Pretty sure they were going after Ramsey’s wildcard and the Vagabond,” Ryan said. 

 

“I mean, when you got a guy who can put a bullet through your head from practically anywhere in San Andreas, flashy explosions and knife tricks aren’t exactly the most pressing issue.”

 

Ryan faked a scowl, “I do more than knife tricks, Jones.” For some reason, Michael stiffened a little at the use of his last name. “And you do more than flashy explosions,” Ryan added softly. 

 

“I mean, blowing a bank vault isn’t exactly the most skilled use of explosives.” 

 

“Well, you did blow up a whole street of cop cars that one time while on a moving motorcycle.”

 

“That was probably the only good moment in the entirety of the mess that was that heist,” Michael clearly didn’t like the memory, which Ryan could understand. It wasn’t the Fakes most glamorous heist, even though it was one of their firsts.

 

Ryan didn’t say anything else, leaning against the window as the news anchor’s voice filled the car again, no longer blocked out by conversation. For a while, anyway. 

 

“Hey, Ryan, were you and Ray ever a thing?” That pulled Ryan out of his thoughts pretty damn fast.

 

“Me- Me and Ray?”

 

“I mean, there were some articles Gavin found a while back that said the Vagabond and Brownman were a thing, like, making out in dark alleys and their secret identities were boyfriends kinda thing.” Ryan could recall Gavin busting in on Ryan and Ray playing some random video game and demanding if the articles were real or not.

 

“I think we’d tell you guys if we were a thing.”

 

“I mean, you made out once-” 

 

“No-” Ryan interrupted, holding his hand up in a motion that signalled to Michael to let Ryan speak, “We  _ kissed _ . Once! Neither of us meant anything by it! We had a whole conversation about it.” Ryan ran his hands over his face at the annoying smirk that Michael had on his face. 

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Yes!” Ryan was practically screaming at this point. 

 

“What about you and Jeremy?” 

 

“No. Stop, right there. I’m not dating or planning on dating anyone in the crew as of right now.”

 

For some reason, that made Michael’s amusement fade immediately. 


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was close to setting over Pacific Bluffs when Michael and Ryan reached their location. Michael parked somewhere secluded, looked over the entire vicinity (“No one is touching this baby, Ryan. No one.”) before sneaking up the ladder on the back of their chosen building and settling down a safe distance from the edge of the roof.

 

Michael let Ryan handle the sniper for the time being.

 

“It’s honestly a miracle Mike Hawk survived,” Michael said in an attempt at conversation.

 

“Yeah,” Ryan didn’t move, watching the entrance to the hospital through the scope. 

 

“Wrong person to give a second chance, in my opinion.”

 

“Not to Mike Hawk’s administration, that’s for sure,” 

 

“They’re probably gonna say it was a gift from God or something, try to get the religious people on their side or something or maybe blame the assassination on criminals who want to hold back ‘good change.’”

 

“I mean, you and Gavin are criminals and you are against what he defines as good change, so… He’s not really lying?” Ryan offered, flinching when Michael throws a friendly punch at his shoulder. 

 

They lapse into silence again for a while. It’s when the sun is setting over the Pacific Bluffs that Ryan takes a moment to look at Michael, watching the warm orange-red of the sunset outline his features. It reminds Ryan of how he looks watching his own masterful explosions, only with a lot less smiling and not nearly as chaotic.

 

Ryan quickly ducks his gaze back through the scope when Michael looks back at him.

 

Hours pass, they trade off, the sun fully vanishes over the horizon and the moon rises, but Mike Hawk doesn’t make an appearance. 

 

“Maybe Geoff over-estimated when he’d be released,” Michael answered when Ryan pointed out how long they had been waiting. 

“That kinda makes sense. Last I checked, we didn’t have anyone feeding us info from any medical centers. ‘Specially not Zonah.” Ryan pulled out his phone, scrolling through to see if Geoff sent him any texts. None.

 

“To be fair, we never needed to,” Michael was looking bored.

 

“Yeah… Although, someone to erase all our medical records would be pretty helpful,” Ryan started typing out a text to Geoff. 

 

“Yeah, except some people would notice if the retired model Ryan Haywood suddenly vanished from all medical records.” 

 

“I mean, according to everywhere outside of San Andreas, Ryan Haywood never existed in the first place.” Michael pulled away from the scope and gave Ryan a curious look.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I erased a bunch of my records out of state. Can’t let anyone know who the Vagabond is, can I?”

 

“You did refuse to show us your face for the first year we worked together,” Michael looked back through the scope. “None of us expected you to be so damn attractive.” Michael suddenly bit down on his bottom lip, as if he had said something regrettable. Ryan was glad the darkness largely hid the largely unwanted pink on his face.

 

They fell into silence as Ryan sent Geoff the text.

 

**Haven’t seen anything. Call it off?**

 

He looked at Michael, patiently waiting for Geoff to respond. 

 

It was a few long minutes of listening to the din of passing cars and phone calls before Geoff responded.

 

**Call it off. Jack is making dinner tonight and you don’t wanna miss it.**

 

Ryan smiled at the image of Jack in her ‘No bitchin in my kitchen’ apron, cooking something delicious. He pocketed his phone before letting Michael know they could head home.

 

Michael was quickly off the roof, climbing back down the ladder to retrieve his car. Ryan grabbed his sniper and followed, putting the weapon into the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. 

 

“So, that was a major waste of time,” Michael said as they began to drive home. 

 

“Yup.”

 

“Would you have rather gone alone?”

 

“I mean, you aren’t bad company, but yes.” Michael frowned at that answer.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I just want to work alone,” Ryan answers, trying not to sound like he’s frustrated with Michael trying to analyze him.

 

“You said something along those lines when the others first started talking about letting you into the crew, yet here you are.” 

 

Ryan doesn’t give him a response.

 

“Ryan, are you having second thoughts?”

 

“About what?” 

 

“About joining the Fakes.”

 

“No!” The quickness of his response was clearly unconvincing to Michael. “No- I- I’m not- I’m not having second thoughts about joining the Fakes. I don’t want to leave any of you guys, you’re like family.” 

 

“Well, from the way you keep going off solo and how you tried to convince Geoff to let Jeremy or Gavin go on this stakeout instead of you, I’d say you don’t exactly believe that.” Ryan flinched, both at Michael’s sudden harshness and the fact that he overheard that particular conversation with Geoff. When Ryan doesn’t respond, Michael adds on,”Family doesn’t try and avoid each other. That’s not how family works.” 

 

“I know that, I just-”

 

“You what? You what?” Michael asked, voice raising in volume slightly. “You don’t want to talk to me? You don’t want to be near me? You’ve been avoiding me like crazy since the armored truck heist and it’s really starting to piss me off.” 

 

Ryan, for some stupid reason, had believed Michael had really noticed how Ryan was trying to avoid him.

 

“It’s not like that, Michael.”

 

“Then fucking explain it to me, Ryan!” He shouted back, his voice breaking slightly towards the end. “Explain.”

 

“Why should I have to? You have Gavin, don’t you?”

 

“I’ve always had Gavin, that doesn’t mean you can just suddenly avoid me like I’m the goddamn plague!” 

 

“Michael, look, it doesn’t fucking matter! It doesn’t matter what I say because it’s not going to change anything!” Ryan yelped as the car suddenly jerked and Michael pulled over into the small parking lot of a small chinese restaurant.

 

“Try me, Ryan.” Michael turned in his seat to face Ryan, leaning forward into Ryan’s personal space.

 

“What?” Michael being this close to his face makes Ryan’s brain slow down for some reason.

 

“Try me,” Michael repeats.

 

Ryan wants to lean forward, he wants to kiss Michael right then and there and get it over with. But he doesn’t. Instead, Ryan jerks away and nearly throws himself out of the car.  

 

He slams the door shut, stumbling around the back of the car to get to the sidewalk, but Michael gets out quickly and grabs him by the arm before Ryan can even reach the sidewalk. Although, Ryan pausing at the sight of the club the crew had visited the night of the armored truck heist which was across the street may have had some influence on that.

 

“Ryan!” He screams over the sound of passing cars, pulling Ryan back over to him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re acting like-”

 

“You kissed Gavin,” Ryan blurts out, causing Michael to freeze up. “You’re with Gavin and it- I…” Ryan hangs his head, unable to find any words.

 

“Ryan, I’m not with Gavin. I- I never was.”

 

“You kissed,” Ryan says, as if that’s a solid response.

 

“These people kept egging us on and we wanted them to shut up and we were drunk. Me and Gavin aren’t a thing, Ryan. Never were.”

 

“I… Fuck, I feel like an idiot now.” 

 

“You are, and an asshole.”

 

“Wow, you do wonders for my self-esteem,” Ryan said drily. 

 

“Ryan, why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to know. I don’t really know, I just didn’t want to ruin what our relationship was…. But I guess I did that anyway.”

 

“Ryan,” Michael’s voice was soft, almost drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. 

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have tried to handle this on my own-” Michael pulled Ryan lower, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. It’s uncoordinated and short, but Ryan suddenly can’t make his tongue form words. 

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Michael said, his grip on Ryan’s arm tightening as he pulled into another kiss. Ryan staggered back, feeling Michael’s car press against him as he does.

 

They stay like that for a while, slightly leaned against Michael’s car while they kiss until Ryan breaks away.

 

“Jack’s cooking, remember?” Michael gives an indifferent hum, entwining his fingers with Ryan’s.

 

“It can wait,” he pulls Ryan into another kiss but he breaks it within another few moments.  

 

“What do we tell Geoff?”

 

“I don’t fucking care, stop talking.” Ryan complies, leaning into the next kiss. He finds that he doesn’t really care either. He wonders why avoiding Michael ever even seemed like a possibility. Ryan decides that it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

All that matters is Michael. 

 


End file.
